5: Terms Of The Deal
820 Words
The next morning, Amara told herself she’d dreamed it.
That no man — not even a Cruz — could look her in the eye and offer marriage like it was a stock trade.
But when she opened the clinic door, there he was.
Sebastian Cruz sat in the waiting area like he owned the place. Black suit, white shirt, no tie — effortlessly composed. His presence seemed to bend the air, drawing every gaze toward him.
He stood as she approached, a folder in hand.
“Good morning, Mrs. Almost,” he said smoothly.
Amara blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You said you wanted peace,” he said, ignoring her glare. “I’m offering it. Just sign the contract.”
He handed her the folder.
Amara hesitated before taking it. Her name printed in bold letters across the top made her stomach twist.
She flipped the first page open — and froze.
⸻
Marriage Agreement: Between Sebastian Alexander Cruz and Amara Eliza Velasquez.
1. Duration: Six months from date of legal marriage.
2. Purpose: Public union to facilitate business and personal protection for both parties.
3. Financial Clause: Amara Velasquez’s clinic, Saint Haven Community Health Center, shall receive a monthly grant under Cruz Holdings International for the term of marriage.
4. Confidentiality: The agreement, motives, and any private details of the arrangement shall remain undisclosed to media or third parties.
5. Termination Clause: Should either party breach confidentiality or publicly discredit the other, this agreement becomes void and legal action may follow.
6. Emotional Boundaries: No expectations of affection or intimacy shall be assumed unless mutually consented.
7. Exit Clause: Upon completion, Amara Velasquez shall receive full ownership of her clinic property and a financial settlement of ₱50 million.
⸻
Amara looked up sharply. “You’re insane. You think I’d sell myself for money?”
Sebastian didn’t flinch. “No. I think you’d protect what you care about.”
Her chest tightened. “My clinic.”
He nodded. “I did my research. You built it with your savings. You treat the people the rest of the world ignores. But it’s collapsing. Donations are down. Your landlord’s ready to sell the building to a developer connected to my brother’s company.”
Her pulse quickened. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He pulled another document from his coat — a real estate notice stamped with the Cruz Holdings seal. “They plan to demolish it for a luxury complex in three months. You have two options, Miss Velasquez: watch everything you built disappear… or sign this and save it.”
Amara stared at the paper. The words blurred.
He was right — the clinic was her last piece of hope, the one thing that made her feel useful again after Darian’s betrayal.
“You could’ve just donated,” she said bitterly.
Sebastian’s expression softened — barely. “And you’d never have accepted it. You’re too proud. So I’m giving you a trade instead of charity.”
She dropped into the nearest chair, rubbing her temples. “You really think this fake marriage will ruin Darian?”
“Oh, it’ll do more than ruin him,” Sebastian said, voice like silk hiding a blade. “It’ll humiliate him. My brother’s empire depends on appearances. His son marrying into wealth was meant to save their image. But when his ex-fiancée marries the man he despises most…”
He leaned forward. “That kind of scandal can’t be bought back.”
Amara’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.
It was madness. All of it. Yet there was something intoxicating in the way he spoke — a dangerous clarity that made the impossible sound inevitable.
She closed the folder slowly. “And what happens when people find out the truth?”
“They won’t,” he said simply. “Because you won’t tell them. Neither will I. And when it’s over, you’ll walk away free — and wealthy enough to start over anywhere you want.”
She met his gaze. “You’re asking me to ruin your family.”
“They ruined themselves,” he said. “You’ll just be there when the curtain falls.”
Silence settled — thick, electric.
Finally, Amara pushed the contract back toward him. “And what do I call you, if I sign this?”
He smiled faintly. “Whatever you like. Husband, if you’re feeling generous.”
Her pulse stumbled. “You think I’m actually considering it?”
“I think,” he said quietly, “you’re a woman who’s tired of losing.”
She wanted to deny it — wanted to throw the papers back in his face — but her throat burned. Because beneath the arrogance, he was right.
She was tired.
Tired of being powerless. Tired of being the victim.
The devil was offering her a deal — and for the first time, she wondered what it would feel like to win.
- Writer
